


Searching for Isaac

by GyouNibergue



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo, Original Work, Ulysses - James Joyce
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Character Study, Conspiracy, Other, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-03-28 14:46:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13906266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GyouNibergue/pseuds/GyouNibergue
Summary: If it wasn't for Marc, I wouldn't have even considered writing this, so blame him and his uniqueness.You can edit and mess with it however you like, it's a piece of trash anyway so you can only make it better.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Between the Dog and the Wolf](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3783901) by [AmZ (Boanerges)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boanerges/pseuds/AmZ). 



> route 99-negresses vertes
> 
> On allait sur la route  
> Entraînant nos misères  
> Le chemin et la boue  
> Nous collaient aux semelles
> 
> On suivantcles rigoles  
> Histoire d’aller tour droit  
> Sans s’poser ;a question  
> De savoir où l’on va

I noticed the carved writing on the back of the wooden door, shutting it close behind me with a squeak.

It made no difference to me how often this door had been opened for the sound to be so loud and ancient and tired of pushing and slamming around as if it was wary of the people’s touch, once maybe too comfortable with it. I released the metal handle and left the door to complain, stepping inside for the first time only to find someone pulling me by the sleeve immediately.

The high figure loomed above me, the white short beard and big round eyes didn’t make this giant less intimidating. He tightened his lips expectantly nodding at me almost imperceptibly. I opened my mouth to say something but then smirked knowingly, finally putting two and two together. With a sigh, I made my way through the pockets of my jacket and then came up with a weird-looking card I never saw before. He snatched it from me and hunched, peering down.

 

«Please, tell me, it’s legal» I joked, unsuccessfully trying to swallow the lump in my throat. He then handed me my card back silently and stepped away until I could see only half of him in the dark. «Table 24» I caught his grumble already far behind me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this whole nonsense is all about my subconscious, so it's self-centered. Probably doesn't make any sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writing is trash and I am completely without shame to post it here unbetaed.  
> Feel free to berate it or edit anything you like. I'd be immensely pleased.  
> Again, sorry.

I looked around still holding the card in my hand. The dim red lights were everywhere, hanged under the ceiling and on the walls.   
Music burst in my ears and someone pushed my shoulder hard before scurry away. There were ladies behind counters swinging their legs in the air, some in fancy hats, there were drunkards, gamblers pushing several tables together, laughing, simple workers in worn jackets. I noticed some guy with an eye patch staring at me with one unblinking eye. He had a wooden cane and as I went further in he shoved it under my feet, chewing the gum, his mouth working deliberately.   
I stepped over it trying my best not to freak out.

«Where to?» he wheezed, shuddering slightly, his eye unfocused staring through me.

«I’ve got an invitation»

He squeaked a laugh squinting his eye at me and moved his cane suddenly, blinking, paying attention to my left hand. 

«Whom are they calling the Saint Duke here?»

I move forward purposefully, fidgeting with the paper card in my hands.

«Whatever you find is yours» he waves me off, falling back on his seat, the fellow next to him whistles and pours him some liquor.

I turned my head slowly to the upcoming sound of guitar cords, rumbling and intensifying from the far dark corner of the bar.   
The air vibrated around me hitching with wrong notes, and I grabbed the cane from the drunk grasp of the one-eyed man. I took a few steps before my eyes got used to the dark and my legs moved recklessly on the floor, dancing to the furious rasping of strings – some musician just knew what he was doing, - my feet working really fast, I felt the gazes wake all around me in a cold rush, static attention of their lives just depend on the movement of my knees and toes, the steady beating of a borrowed cane on the floor and the restless fingers sewing the fabric of existence.   
The light of a candle in front of the stage glared at me maddeningly but my hard breath couldn’t overcome the harsh slaps the guitar endured.

The light kept spreading.

**Author's Note:**

> honestly, those are just my personal scribblings with a very bad grammar and obviously unbetaed. If you appalled reading this mess I'd be happy to receive your angry letters.


End file.
